


Live and Let Live

by depressivesergeant, orphan_account



Category: Billions (TV), Loudermilk (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Denial, Drunken Flirting, Gay Panic, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Partying, Roommates, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2020-09-26 12:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20389483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depressivesergeant/pseuds/depressivesergeant, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sam's roommate Bobby seems bigoted and homophobic, but they forge a tentative friendship and Sam learns there is more to Bobby, and even himself, than the surface shows.





	1. Chapter 1

Bobby is tired of Sam's social justice bullshit. He doesn't care about any of those things or how guilty they were supposed to make him feel. He comes to the dorms early than normally because he has been having finals this week and when he finds Sam covering the carpet with papers, Bobby can't help but rolling his eyes. 

"Can you please take this," he points to the ground, "away from me?" he goes to the bathroom, wash his face as he is tired and under the impression that he didn't do very well on his last text. "I just want my quietness, ok?"

Sam scowls, irritated by the other boy's presence already. He'd tried being nice and putting up with it for the sake of himself and his family, but now he wishes he'd just switched roommates when he had the chance. Feeling spiteful, he ignores the younger boy and continues sorting his papers there on the floor. "This," he grumbles, "is my English textbook." He'd expected a book with binding, but oh no, they only give you the paper. You have to put it in a binder yourself.

"Utter bullshit," Sam hisses.

Bobby washes his face, sighing deeply as he rests over his hands' "heels". He looks at Sam by the corner of his eye as he hears him - there was none else or anything to hear besides the other boy's breath. 

"Does you need to do this there?" he says, a little softer than before but still grimacing as he looked down straight at Sam who was muttering something under his breath.

Sam sighs, frustrated. "I'm sick of those assholes in the common area playing their shitty goddamn music," he spits out, looking up at Bobby for once.

"If you don't wanna be around me then just go somewhere else. It's my room too." He feels almost bad for being so rude, but he's exhausted and pissed off and already falling behind on classwork. He can't focus with Bobby around and he can't focus outside of their room. What else is he supposed to do? Sit in an empty classroom to work?

Bobby rolls his eyes, "You don't need to do in the middle of our beds, you can do it in your fucking bed," Bobby goes out of the bathroom, trying to find a way to his bed in the middle of this mess. He sighs, brushing his tired almost red eyes, "Fuck, just put it aside for a freaking second and don't talk to me..." he says as he closes his eyes, already feeling sleepy, "Or talk about your faggot boyfriend."

Sam rolls his eyes, clearing a path for Bobby so he can get by. He doesn't say anything but the comment hurt, and he clenches his jaw. Once Bobby's made it to his bed Sam picks everything up and shoves it on his desk, going into the bathroom and closing the door. Angry tears prick at his eyes but he refuses to cry, wiping them away irritably. He's sick and tired of college and he's wanted to drop out more than once already. It all feels pointless but he knows he needs a degree if he wants to break the cycle of poverty in the Loudermilk family. He washes his hands and face in the sink and takes a moment to breathe, gripping the edges of the sink.

"Fucking asshole," he mutters.

Bobby lays down and for a second, he feels guilty. He didn't need to call Sam's friend a faggot - even if he were a homosexual. It has been some days since Sam had stopped talking about the guy altogether, probably because he realized Bobby didn't want to know about him - because the guy was the worst, even more annoying than Sam could be. He sighs but he doesn't think much about it before sleepiness takes him entirely.

When Sam steps out of the bathroom he sees that Bobby has fallen asleep. He sighs and sits down at his desk, finishing with the textbook. He'd been so frustrated he'd made it a bigger mess of it than it already was, and it takes him a while to fix it. He thinks about Bobby's comments, the ones about his friend, and he feels sick to his stomach. Of all the people to be his roommate it had to be a homophobic asshole. Greg isn't even that open about his sexuality, and Sam himself is deeply closeted. Oh, he knows, but he doesn't talk about it. It's like his drinking habits - something he keeps out of the light, something private that he tries not to show. He knows it isn't right but he can't help it.

He's distracted from his thoughts when he hears Bobby wake up.

"What hour is it?" Bobby asks.

Sam glances at his clock. "Two thirty," he replies dully. He doesn't look at the other boy.

"Are you sure?" Bobby asks, sitting up and trying to focus in front of himself. He feels so tired yet but as if he had slept some amount. He scratches his head, he should probably try to sleep again. He pulls his shirt off his head and lay down again, blinking and then closing his eyes. This time he doesn't fall asleep immediately. He thinks of his dream and how he felt. His racing heart can still be listened into his ears. He shakes his head. It was probably due to some stress. To do a bad exam and then dream about Sam kissing his friend? Probably stress, there was no other answer for that.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure," he snaps, opening his laptop. He's feeling fidgety, but he doesn't want to leave the room just yet. Going anywhere else on campus takes more energy than he has right now. He hears Bobby moving around, the rustle of fabric and an irritated sigh. Sam is surprised when Bobby continues to talk to him. Usually they exchange about ten words and then ignore each other.

"Are you gonna be here over the weekend?"

"Yeah," he says. "My mom will be working." He frowns, thinking about her briefly. It's odd not being home. "Will you be here?"

Bobby sighs heavily, pulling both of his arms over his head, "Nah, if at least I get someone in this party I'm going to," he informs as he relaxes his shoulders, "You should come," he suddenly says, "and forget to save the world for a second. It must be exhausting..." He doesn't know why did he call Sam to this frat party he is going to, but he doesn't try to figure it out. He just wants to think of anything else but that dream.

Sam frowns, turning in his chair to look at Bobby. He notices the boy had taken his shirt off and blushes a bit, trying not to look. "I dunno, I have a lot of homework already," he says uncertainly. It does sound nice, though - losing himself in a party for a while. Of course, there will be alcohol. But that's not the weird part- no, Bobby is being nice. Or trying. Sam wonders if he's trying to apologize. "I won't bring Greg," Sam says. "If you're worried about him. He doesn't like parties."

"Greg?" Bobby asks, confused, then he realizes the guy's name is Greg, "What does he have to do with anything?" he frowns. Is Sam saying Greg isn't his boyfriend or something? "Anyway, you really, really should stop studying all the time." Bobby says, closing his eyes again, flexing his legs up, "We should get laid." He searches for something in his pocket and finds a couple of condoms. "Fuck whoever you want, Sam, I don't care," he does care, though, but he won't say it because first: it's stupid and second, he doesn't know why he is caring so much right now. He throws the little package to Sam. "Seriously, you need to care a little less."

Sam shrugs, looking away. "I dunno. I just know you don't like him." He frowns sadly, feeling sorry about it. He glances up at Bobby as he continues talking, startling a bit when the boy mentions having sex and throws him a few condoms. Sam blushes, embarassed and a little scared. "I-I've never..." he stops himself, worried Bobby will needle him for being a virgin. "I guess," he says lamely, considering the foil package. Is it a test? He wonders. Is Bobby trying to make him out himself? Sam swallows nervously and tucks the condoms in his wallet. No use denying them.

Bobby doesn't like to see what he sees, to feel what he feels. That is, he really doesn't like the guy very much but he wasn't really looking for making Sam looking sad and melancholic. He raises to a sit position again and looks at Sam.

"What I think doesn't matter," he says because if Sam likes the guy, he likes the guy. He cannot and he doesn't really want to make Sam feel bad for liking who he likes or for Bobby not liking his friend - as if it mattered some time ago, what the fuck was all that? By the "I've never", Bobby supposes Sam is a virgin but he doesn't say anything, he understood already that the guy is not feeling the best and he really isn't that much of a jerk to push more buttons for the sake of it. He just doesn't like Sam's politics and how all his friends seem to behave like they were all better than everybody because they hated everything that was mainstream.

"Anyway, if you want, you can go," he says, shrugging, looking down as he doesn't want to face Sam because they were just arguing minutes ago, "And please, don't you start with the politics in the party, alright? Some chicks may love it but God, I hate it." As if his opinion mattered for Sam to get laid.

Sam glances up, blinking at Bobby. He's not sure what to say and nods, picking at the seam of his jeans. "Okay," he agrees softly. "I'll think about it." He cringes a little as Bobby mentions girls, not wanting to think about his meaning there. Sam gets up, stretching a bit, and digs a snack out of their fridge. There's alcohol in his dresser drawer and he thinks of it fleetingly but shakes the thought away. Bobby would probably want some too, and anyway it's barely past noon. He sits on his bed with his food, looking at Bobby curiously. The boy's red hair had always intrigued him, it's so vibrant.

Bobby falls asleep again as Sam seems to get busy with something. This time, he sleeps better and even dream with Sam but ultimately he just seems to pass by through the several dreams he have. By the time he wakes up, it's darker and he starts listening to a few people talking in the corridor. He looks to Sam who seems to sleep. He kind looks cute when he sleeps, he thinks, looking at Sam from his bed.

Sam watches Bobby for a while before lying down to sleep himself. He's more tired than he realizes and falls asleep quickly. Sam doesn't really dream of anything for a while but he wakes up later with the image of himself kissing someone in his head and he feels uncomfortable. He's not really sure about himself and Greg and the others kept pressuring him to feel a certain way about other people and to adopt confusing labels. Sam just likes boys. He doesn't know why he has to call himself anything at all. He groans, scrubbing at his face and rolling over. He sees Bobby looking at him and stills, uncertain.

Bobby blinks and then thinks about closing his eyes, to pretend he was sleeping, but he decides against it, he knows Sam had already seen him so he just shrugs and sits up. He turns to his bed drawer and sighs as it shows 8pm. He looks back at Sam, rubbing his eyes, "I'm gonna eat. Do you want something?" He knows he normally isn't very polite and nice to Sam but he just doesn't need to be an asshole all the time, either. If Sam keeps his nonsense to himself, Bob can live with him.

Sam blinks, surprised. "Uh, sure," he says, sitting up. He can feel what a mess his hair is and knows he looks like a disaster. "Let me brush my teeth," he says, going to the bathroom and cleaning up, brushing his teeth and combing his hair back. He's a little weirded out by the thought of getting dinner with Bobby but it's late and his friends will have already eaten, and he doesn't like to go out alone much. Sam steps back out and puts his shoes on, looking to Bobby hesitantly.

Bobby didn't have in mind to bring Sam along with him but to ask if he wanted something so Bob could bring it to him. But he shrugs, there's no good reason to explain that when the guy is already dressing up, maybe somehow interested on it? He feels kind of guilty for being too much of an asshole lately to the guy.

"We'll meet a friend of mine, alright?" Bobby said, taking off his pants and changing to more social clothes, "It's my best friend, Wendy, so don't hit on her, you listened me?" he jokes but his face is blank.

"Okay," Sam agrees, but his stomach is tight with nerves. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, he thinks. He looks away as Bobby gets dressed and doesn't reply to his comment, not sure what to say. He doesn't even like talking to girls, much less flirting with them, but Bobby doesn't know that. Sam dries his hands on his jeans, nervous and warm from his nap.

He puts up his last piece of clothing and his shoes and walks to take his wallet beside his bed, "I was just joking, alright?" He looks up at Sam for a moment. That guy seems so sad and fragile sometimes that Bob feels like he is kicking a puppy when he isn't exactly nice to him. "There's no need to feel anxious..." he says, turning around to open the dorm door.

Sam nods, trying to smile. He knows he just looks pathetic. He follows Bobby out the door and down the hallway, trying not to seem too uncomfortable as they walk together. He isn't really prone to anxiety, but the way Bobby has been treating him compared to this sudden kinder side is weird and confusing. He's not sure what the other boy wants from him.

It's not a lot far away from their dorms and they get to one of the uni's restaurants. Bobby finds Wendy very quickly with his eyes and his pace fastens as he reaches her and kisses her cheeks. "Hey," he says, grinning, and then he looks around, trying to find Sam, "This is my roommate Sam, he needs urgently to stop studying and to do something nice." He smiles teasing but he doesn't make any other comment as he takes a place in the table Wendy is, letting a space for Sam.

Sam watches as Bobby kisses Wendy, feeling awkward. He manages a smiles to Wendy, feeling shy. "Hi," he says, and sits down. He rolls his eyes at Bobby's comment. "I never see you studying," he retorts lightly, looking over the menu. His eyes flick up to Wendy and Bobby throughout, trying to gauge their relationship. Bobby had never mentioned a girlfriend.

Wendy looks sideways at Bobby with an amused smile who just says, "What? It's true. He's always talking about socialism, identity politics...and boring literature."

"I bet it isn't really boring," Wendy says, smiling at Sam.

"It is for me," Bobby says simply, he then turns to Sam, "I don't study at our room, you always have those rainbow haired friends over." Not that Sam had invited them but it seems that they wanted to come over anyway, "It's not you, they are annoying and they keep calling me silly names."

Sam listens to their banter impartially until Bobby mentions his friends. He shrugs, playing with his silverware absently. "They can be a little ridiculous," he agrees softly. "I just...I dunno, I want to fit in somewhere," he admits. "I'm still...figuring out who I am." Sam doesn't want to say much more than that and takes a drink of his water.

"Ok, but that's our room so I think it should be a little less of them there," Bobby says, "I mean, I mostly never invite anyone there, Sam."

Wendy doesn't say anything, just stays looking at them with curiosity, until...

"Didn't you date that boy in middle school?"

Bobby's eyes went wide as he tried not to look at Sam, turning his head back slowly at Wendy.

"That was a phase."

"Was it?"

"I'm not like those weirdos," He looks back at Sam, "No offense, you are kind alright."

Sam glances up at Bobby, surprised. A boyfriend? Bobby had come off as so homophobic... He smiles faintly. "Thanks, I guess," he says to Bobby. "And they've only been over twice, you know," he sighs. "We agreed that guests were okay for an hour or so."

"They are awful," Bobby says, almost dramatically, curling his hands in the form of pangs "Anyway, I'll be studying at the library or at Wendy's or Ron's, but not there," he rolls his eyes, exhasperated. But he stops acting like that as soon as a waiter shows up and they start asking for their food. He hopes Sam doesn't tell anyone about that thing, about Bob's "phase". He doesn't need those weirdos to ask him questions.

Sam shakes his head, a little annoyed with Bobby's insistence on complaining about his friends. Sure, they could be a bit obnoxious, but when they were over they'd been fairly quiet. When the waiter approaches he orders a lasagna and sits back, thoughtful.

Bobby seems hell-bent on voicing his disgust for homosexuality, yet he'd apparently had a "phase" in his youth. Sam wonders if maybe he'd been punished somehow by his parents, or even put through conversion therapy, taught to hate that part of himself. He feels a little more sympathy for Bobby at that revelation and offers him a smile. Sam himself was too scared to come out to his family and friends, but Bobby seems to have figured him out already.

When they finish eating, Bobby feels like he can barely walk by how much he eaten. He leans on the chair, closed eyes, sighing heavily as he feels his belly full.

"I told you to not eat that much," Wendy says in amusement, Bobby just snorts.

He looks over to Sam who is quiet. He narrows his eyes, that guy was quieter than he thought. Maybe he had been a bit unfair with him. He sighs again, sitting back.

"Ok, I want my bed, are you coming, Sam?" he asks, not very aware of how one could understand that.

Sam had been eating slowly, leaving half of his meal to save for later. He watches as Bobby and Wendy banter with an amused smile, but it fades when Bobby looks at him and seems to be sizing him up. At his words, Sam frowns.

"Um, well, I'm ready to go back the the dorms if that's what you mean," he says uncertainly.

Bobby raises an eyebrow, confused, then he realizes what the other understood from what he said:

"I'm not like this," Bob makes a disgusted grimace, he isn’t attracted to men, even less to Sam, "I am not asking for you to fuck me or something."

Sam scowls. "I didn't expect you to. You just said that all weird. Excuse me for not understanding you." He dumps his food into his takeout box irritably. "I'm not like that either, you know." He feels sick for saying it, but he's tired of Bobby's assumptions of him, tired of the weight of expectation from Greg and his friends. Maybe he's better off seeing a girl at the party anyway, he thinks sourly. What he wants doesn't matter anyway.

"I'm not gay," he spits angrily. "I know that's what you think but it's not true. Greg is just my friend."

They - Wendy and Bob - are taken out of surprise and Bob gets speechless. He had never seen Sam like that and he was almost sure Sam was lying because of him. He swallows, taking their things. 

"I think we should go," Bobby says but he knows he can’t answer for Sam, so he just gets up, kisses Wendy and walks out, shaking a bit as he's nervous, guilty and ashamed.

Sam keeps his face blank as Bobby leaves, then takes his own food and stands. "It was nice meeting you," he says to Wendy, his voice a bit strained. "I- I need to go." He turns away before she can say anything, leaving the restaurant and trailing several paces behind Bobby. He feels bad for his outburst, but he's had enough of Bobby's attitude. Still, he hangs back, not wanting to say anything else just yet.

Bobby goes directly to the shower, trying to clean his mind, his body of all that he was having a hard time with. He knows he can’t do it with Sam but he doesn’t mind him in this right now. He just wants to keep his mind away from the memories, from that boy in middle school. It had been a phase, something that happened once and would never happen again. He goes out, puts a pair of pajamas on.

He sees Sam entering as he finishes dressing himself but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know how to apologize and he doesn’t want to argue with him again, either.

Sam frowns, putting his takeout in the fridge. He leaves again, getting a snack from the vending machine outside and going to Greg's room. The boy doesn't answer and Sam sighs, returning to his and Bobby's room and lying down.

"Sorry," he says to Bobby after a while has passed. "I didn't mean to make a scene."

For a moment, Bobby finds it comforting to see Sam back but he sighs as he has to apologize too.

"No, it was me," he says, looking down at his own belly, "I...I don’t like to remember who I was..." who he was still but he didn’t want to think he was still attracted to boys, "I mean, it’s not something for me." He sighs and looks at Sam. 

The other boy is actually cute and he could possibly like to be with him, if only he didn’t walk with those weirdos that complained about everything.

"You're cute, you can have better friends than those idiots."

Sam frowns, confused by Bobby's meaning. "There's nothing wrong with it," he says softly. "Being...y'know. Different. I don't know what happened, but..." Sam trails off, feeling that he's overstepping.

"Greg and the others," he says, changing the subject, "they're not really my crowd, but...I guess I just thought I'd feel safer with them. But they're trying to pressure me about stuff all the time and it's tiring." Sam looks over at Bobby, smiling sadly. "I don't know what's wrong with me." _And I doubt I'm cute,_ he thinks privately.

Bobby opens his mouth and the closes it. There's nothing inherently wrong with Sam and he wants to kiss him because that sad smile is endearing. But he cannot do it. He isn’t gay nor is Sam interested in his past.

"I like girls more so it doesn’t matter," he looks away because the question doesn’t stop there, "And there’s nothing with you, if I were into guys I would kiss you." But he isn’t.

Sam nods, thoughtful. It isn't his place to label him but he supposes Bobby is bisexual. He hadn't been shy about girls before. He blinks in surprise as Bobby says he would kiss him, looking up at the other boy with some confusion. Bobby likes him? He honestly didn't expect that.

"I thought you hated me," he admits softly.

"I thought I did," Bobby answers, "but maybe I just hate all that clown fiesta those kids do..." He smiles a bit at Sam and leans on his bed, laying down, "but you and I have classes tomorrow, so we may as well as sleep now." He blinks sleepy, "Or you gonna want a goodnight kiss?" He jokes, closing his eyes.

Sam smiles a bit, unsure of what to say to that. "Yeah, we should sleep," he agrees. At Bobby's question he rolls his eyes. "Only if _you_ want a goodnight kiss, shithead," he teases. He reaches to turn off the light and lies back with a sigh.

Bobby chuckles, "Is this an offer if I want?" He loved teasing exchanges and he wouldn’t mind flirting either. Those games were fun, but he also feels very tired so he doesn’t say anything more.

Sam chuckles. "Maybe," he says impartially, drifting asleep. He doesn't dream much, but he wakes up before sunset feeling uncomfortably aroused. He rolls on his stomach, groaning, and tries to ignore Bobby hardly two feet away as he grinds against the mattress slowly.

Bobby babbles onto his pillow facing Sam after a couple of hours as he moves sleeping. Sometimes he talks asleep, "Yeah, yeah, please..." he moans as he rubs his face against the pillow, breathing deeply. He hums, completely unconscious of anything around him in real life.

Sam listens to Bobby talking in his sleep and is embarrassed as his imagination twists it into more. He imagines Bobby fucking a girl, pressing her down and pounding into her, and Sam rolls onto his back, giving in and sliding his hand under his waistband. He jerks himself off to that image, following it as it shifts to something different, to Bobby on top of Sam.

"Fuck," Sam moans, guiltily indulging in the fantasy. He barely likes Bobby, but god is he attractive.

Bobby hums again and opens his eyes, looking around. He just seems dark until he hears it, someone moaning, Sam moaning. He closes his eyes and pretend he isn’t there, listening to that. He looks at Sam's hair direction, with his sheets over his mouth.

Sam doesn't notice when Bobby wakes up, entirely focused on his fantasy. He speeds up a bit, turning his head to muffle his gasp into his pillow. "F-fuck...s-so good," he murmurs, imagining Bobby's lean body over him. It isn't long before he comes, soiling his boxers and letting out a soft whine. It'd been a while since he'd gotten any release and he slumps, exhausted, and stares up at the ceiling.

Bobby's heart is racing so much that he feels like Sam could listen it if he only stayed entirely quiet for a minute. Oh, my. He had never seen another boy jerking off, a gay boy who he thought was...kind cute. He swallows, trying to sleep again, trying to pretend that nothing ever happened.

Sam catches his breath and gets up to clean himself up while Bobby is still (he thinks) asleep. He changes into clean boxers and slips under his covers again, falling asleep until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Bobby keeps remembering what he heard but tries not to show, so he literally doesn't say anything to Sam in and out the dorm. It's the first time he never ever speaks anything to the other boy.

In the morning Sam greets Bobby and is surprised when he doesn't say anything back, grabbing his backpack and leaving in a hurry. Sam frowns, packing his own bag and locking up the dorm. He walks to class, and is distracted wondering why Bobby had been suddenly distant. He remembers talking about kissing before they fell asleep, and wonders if that had made the other boy uncomfortable. He'd thought their conversation was innocent enough.

At lunch with Greg and the others, Sam is quieter than normal. After his revelation at dinner the other night he doesn't feel so comfortable around them and gets agitated when they ask if he's "decided" what he is yet.

"I'm just me," he snaps, standing up. "Stop asking me to put a label on it."

Sam leaves the dining hall, going outside for a smoke. It's not a habit he normally indulges in but he's stressed enough to want it. He sits down on a bench and lights the stick, inhaling the smoke and letting it out on a sigh. He's tired of labels and politics and arguing. He just wants to live for a while, dammit.

Bob is smoking pot with a blonde girl when Sam shows up there. She looks frightened but Bobby just smiles, "It's just Sam, my cute roommate," he says without paying attention to how he described Sam, "He's harmless," he says, laying down, while smoking. He puffs in the arm and giggles. 

The girl looks back at Sam:

"Hey, Sam, come here."

Sam hears someone call to him and looks around, finding Bobby sitting in the grass with a blonde girl, smoking. When he approaches he cringes at the smell of the pot but sits down next to them anyway, taking a draw off his own cigarette.

"Hi," he says to Bobby. "Who's your friend?"

"My," he says, eyes closed, "ex-girlfriend or something,"

The blonde shakes her head:

"Lara, Bobby's ex, yes," she offers her hand, "and you are Sam? The cute one?"

Bobby snorts, opening an eye:

"She finds it funny."

Sam smiles, taking Lara's hand. "Yeah, that's me." He cocks his head, curious. "Cure one?" He asks, dropping his hand and nursing his cigarette, looking between Bobby and Lara curiously.

She shakes her head, chuckling. She side eyes Bobby, "That's how Bobby called you," Bobby shrugs, feeling a bit more aware of what he had said. 

He gets on his elbows:

"The party is tomorrow, in Lara's cousin beach house.”

"She's rich, not me" Lara explains and Bobby tries his best to pretend nothing happened last night and hears hadn’t seen anything.

"Oh," Sam says, looking at Bobby too. When the boy changes the subject he nods, looking away. "I've never been to a rich person's house," he comments, feeling a little anxious. "Do I need to dress up or something?" He looks at Lara and then down at himself; his worn out band t-shirt, hand-me-down jeans, and rather grubby looking Converse. His mother saved every last penny for him to be in university, and he hasn't found a job yet.

Lara chuckles, "Nah, it isn’t a party for her folks", she smiles, amused, "it’s like those frat parties, to drink and have sex as much as you can."

Bobby looked up at them: "If you'd like, Sam, we can stay together until we find something to do there." He sat, "I invited you, I wont let you by yourself."

Sam smiles nervously. "Oh. Alright." He's never been to a party like that, just homecoming his freshman year in high school and then prom senior year. His date was just another friend without a romantic partner. She went home after they had dinner together and that was that.

Sam looks at Bobby. "I think I'd like that," he admits. "I get..overwhelmed, sometimes. I haven't been to a big party before."

Bobby nods but tries to avoid Sam's eyes as he comes to himself after the pot effect and remembers last night. He still can remember Sam's quiet moans and the noise of the bed as he touched himself. He licks his lips, trying to pretend that for a moment he didn't think about touching Sam, taking Sam's hand away from himself. He says suddenly:

"I think you should take my number, so we can come back together."

Sam notices as Bobby seems to be thinking about something and wonders again at his behavior. Had he woken up last night? Had he heard what Sam was doing? The boy blushes, worried and embarrassed. At Bobby's suggestion he nods, taking out his phone.

"Y-yeah," he says shakily. "Good idea. I'm not familiar with this area."

Bobby takes the phone and puts his number on it and then gives it back to Sam, "I mean, you can find someone you like there, but the car pool comes around at 1:30," he says, shrugging. He isn't Sam's mom to say what he should or shouldn't do, but this was what Bobby could do for him if he needed it.

Sam nods, looking between Lara and Bobby. He's not sure what to say and puts his phone away, finishing his cigarette and tossing it.

He's worried about the party- he'd told Bobby he wasn't gay, but he knows he won't be comfortable talking to girls. Especially if they're just looking for sex. He regrets accepting the invitation and wonders not for the first time why Bobby invited him at all.

Lara walks away, saying goodbye as she was going somewhere else. Bobby waits her going out and touches Sam on the arm, "You don't need to pretend you don't like guys at the party," because he knows that is the reason he walks with those rainbow-haired weirdos, "It isnt my business. You should have a good time."

Sam looks up, surprised. "Um, okay," he says, managing a smile. "By the way...maybe it's not my place, but...what happened with you in middle school?" Sam glances down, picking at his jeans.

"I just...you seem as if you've been treated badly over it," Sam says worriedly, "and...I haven't come out at all, so...I'm scared," he admits. "I don't know anyone else like me, you know? Greg and his friends...they're all bisexual or whatever. I know you're not really gay, but..." Sam trails off, feeling sick. "I dunno," he sighs. "I just feel like no one understands me."

"It's just not my thing," Bobby says, raising up, "I don't want to..." he breathes deeply, he doesn't want to be perceived by others as gay, he isn't feminine or like feminine stuff. He doesn't like feminine men very much, especially because they are very loud and they are too performative, always making a clown fiesta over anything, "I'm not like other people who...like...you know."

Sam frowns, not really understanding. "Like what?" he asks. "The- the identity stuff?" Sam looks up at Bobby, contemplative. "It's not...I mean, for me, it's not a part of my...my sexuality," he says. "It's just personal expression."

"Yeah, but a lot of them, us...whatever," he shakes his head, "act feminine and loud and obnoxious and I am not like that," Bobby explains as he pats his butt from the dirt he probably gathered from sitting on the ground, "Keep it between us, alright?"

Sam frowns, thinking of his own interests- not that he'd acted on them at all, but the want was there. But he understands Bobby's view. "I guess," he says. "It's...a lot to be around. And sure, of course." Sam smiles. "Like I said, I'm not out at home, so.."

Bobby nods, "Thank you," he smiles, he pats Sam on the shoulder softly, "thank you, and I won't talk about your...your own thing around, either," he says, pulling away and taking his backpack from the ground. "Anyway, I'm going to classes right now. I see you at the dorms, alright?"

Sam smiles. "Alright. See you later." He gets to his feet as well, brushing off his jeans and parting ways with Bobby as he heads to his next class.

* * *

At around the same time the next day, Sam gets back from his last class to find Bobby in the dorm room already, getting dressed.

"Hey," Sam greets, dropping his backpack on his desk chair. "I should shower first, is there still time?"

"It depends," Bobby says, smiling, looking at the toilet mirror, "You aren't going to stay there for 30 minutes or more, will you?" He finishes his dressing and throws himself on his own bed, making his bed creak, "Seriously, nothing fancy, alright?" he says, closing his eyes as he is lay down.

Sam smiles. "Not that long," he promises, picking out his clothes and grabbing a fresh towel. He goes to shower, scrubbing down quickly and drying off, pulling on his boxers before going to the bedroom and putting the rest of his clothes on. He goes for a simple grey t-shirt and capri jeans with his usual Converse, turning to Bobby. "This okay?" he asks, a bit shy.

"Cute," Bobby says, opening his eyes with a smile, "I like my boys cute," he jokes and pulls up from the bed, walking to take his phone and calling Lara's number. He calls her and then in no long they are at the door, waiting in a jeep, "Now, let's do it," he says, bringing an arm to Sam's shoulder. He feels so anxious about that party that he forgets momentarily about what he witnessed that night.

Sam blushes at the compliment, grinning. "Thanks," he says, following Bobby outside. In the jeep he relaxes a little, but is taken off-guard when Bobby wraps an arm around him. "O-oh," he exclaims, blushing. "Hi." He's not used to being touched, but it feels nice.

"Hey," Bobby answers, smiling to him as they go inside and Bobby pulls away so to enter the vehicle. He likes to not see more that sad face on Sam and thinks it may be the start they stop bothering each other so much. He is cute indeed, too, which is also nice.

Lara flashes a smile at them and then talks to the guy driving. Bobby doesn't know the guy and he doesn't mind asking.

Sam leans into the touch a bit unconsciously, until Bobby breaks away and gets into the jeep. Sam climbs in next to him, smiling politely at Lara and looking out the window as they start to drive, quiet and thoughtful. He hasn't been to a social gathering in a while and he already feels himself isolating a bit, wanting just to be with Bobby. It feels strange, how magnetic the other boy is to him, but he supposes they've overcome their differences enough to be friendly now. Bobby is good-looking and smart, and Sam's not ashamed to admit it.

It didn't take much and they are already at the party. Loud music plays and Bobby feels a mix of annoyed and excited. He goes inside, expecting Sam to be around him and takes some drinks for them. "Do you like it?" he asks, tasting his manga juice with milk and vodka, "I love these sweet ones, it doesn't even seem like you are drinking alcohol." He blushes a bit because he was supposed to be more into this, but he mostly just drinks beer. He winks at some guys and some girls who know him. They are nice and very straight and very conservative. He doesn't mind being with Sam, he's alright, he doesn't act like the other leftists who are always on his patience. Sam is actually the only gay person he has ever liked somehow. He looks at Sam, "Do you want to do something?"

When they step inside, Sam is overwhelmed by the noise and the smell of alcohol heavy on the air. He accepts the drink Bobby gives him and tastes it. "Yeah," he agrees, "It's good. I usually go for vodka, though," he says, then regrets it. He's not proud of his drinking habits, as sparse as they are. He smiles awkwardly up at Bobby. "What's there to do here?" he asks, looking around. "I'm not really into dancing." A lie- it's the pop music he dislikes.

"Sam, this is vodka," he gestures to the glass shaking it a bit while he has a raised eyebrow, then he looks up at a girl eyeing him. He smirks, "Well, there are always hotties around," the girl moves her head in a way that says he should come for a private conversation. He smiles even more, "mhmm, if you excuse me, Sam. I think there’s something that girl wants to talk to me." He walks away, "I will be back, alright," leaving the drink on a furniture.

Straight vodka, Sam thinks, but shrugs it off, sipping at his own. He watches as Bobby's attention is caught by a girl and feels uncomfortable, not saying anything as Bobby leaves him. As he's left standing on his own his anxiety flares up and he has to sit down, feeling too small in such a crowd. He drinks with more gusto, emptying the cup, and he starts to feel a bit warm.

"Hi," comes a girl's voice behind him, and he looks up at her. "You alone?" she asks, and Sam shrugs.

"My friend's over there," he says shortly, gesturing towards Bobby. He sees the ginger getting close to the other girl and frowns, feeling oddly jealous.

Bobby chuckles at the jokes of double meaning the girl makes, this is a game and he knows it pretty well, it's even kind of funny - if only there wasn’t a nagging feeling that he wasn’t doing as promised to Sam and he couldn’t stop remembering out of a sudden that moment in their room. He and the girl go to take another drink to themselves and he sips looking over to find Sam talking to someone. Maybe he has find a friend? He feels a little odd about that, then he feels a hand on his shirt and suddenly he is kissing someone. He opens his eyes, and its a tipsy girl. He pulls away fast in surprise.

Sam talks to the girl as politely as he can manage, but she's persistent- as she sits down next to him he sees Bobby's company lean in and kiss him, and he feels his heart twist in agony. Of course Bobby hadn't even shown any interest in Sam, had openly said he didn't like being attracted to men, but Sam had taken his small kindnesses for more than they were. He scowls, grabbing Bobby's abandoned drink and swallowing it all down. The girl is touching him now, trying to get his attention, and he's angry and sick of himself and he barks at her to fuck off because he's just not comfortable with girls and it makes him feel dirty, those fake nails on his thigh, it makes him want to puke just like seeing Bobby kiss that girl does.

Sam stands up on wobbly legs and leaves, going outside to the front patio and sitting down there by himself, trying not to act on the impulse that's telling him to go back in there and yell at Bobby.

Bobby is startled by the girl. It was out of nowhere and she seems very tipsy for that kissing. He looks around and he doesn’t find Sam with his eyes. Did he find someone? He feels annoyed at the thought and takes his phone out. He messages, "are you ok?" He has no idea where the guy went to ask personally. "If you find someone you don’t need to explain," he writes but he still feels annoyed, taking more of his drink.

Sam's phone buzzes and he takes it out, seeing a message from Bobby. He snorts, irritated, and replies: “Clearly you found someone. I'm outside, I needed a smoke.” He sighs, taking out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one up. _Feelings are stupid_, he decides resolutely. _Only ends in heartbreak._

Bobby raises an eyebrow, unsure of what Sam meant and waited some minutes before going outside. After all, he finds Sam sat on the patio and smoking. He walks to him and sits beside him, "Are you ok?" He asks again, touching Sam on the knee, "You disappeared so fast...I thought maybe something had happened..."

Sam softens at Bobby's concern. "This girl was all over me," he says. "It made me feel all gross." Sam shrugs, looking away. "I really...really don't like it when girls flirt with me," Sam admits. "I...I dunno how to tell my parents. Mom wants grandkids, Dad's been gone since I was eight, but I remember how homophobic he was." Sam scuffs his shoe on the cement. "It's all eating at me," he sighs. "I feel...lost."

Bobby nods, "They don’t really need to know right now," he eventually says, "You don’t need to say anything to anybody right now. I don’t know why you feel like you should..." Bobby lays down, closing his eyes with the help of his arms, "I should have stayed at the dorms today, I feel tired..." he suddenly sits, "Do you want to find a room to just watch TV or something? Until we have the carpool back home?"

Sam chews his lip, thinking about it. It was Greg and the others who'd made him feel like he needed to come out, he realizes. He'd known before but just stayed quiet. He looks at Bobby, the alcohol in his system making him a bit drowsy and pleasant, and he smiles. "That sounds like a good idea," he agrees. "Maybe we can find some snacks, too. I'm...really buzzed right now."

Bobby smiles and gets up, giving a hand to Sam, "So let’s go," he likes when the other guy smiles, it’s a lot better that way. He even thinks he could kiss Sam but goes against this idea, Sam is drunk as that other chick. Nobody is well for him to kiss right now, he chuckles bitterly. He smiles anyway. "Come on, I want to lay down "

Sam nods, putting out his cigarette and standing unsteadily. He follows Bobby back into the house, where they raid the kitchen and then find a guest bedroom. Sam lies down immediately, feeling a bit dizzy, and watches Bobby curiously.

Bobby finds it odd that Sam's already dizzy with alcohol but he doesn’t say, he just lays down beside the other guy, feeling tiredness pulling in him. He turns his head to Sam, "Do you want the TV?" Bobby doesn’t, he just wants that, to be lay down with Sam.

Sam shakes his head "No," he says. "Too much noise." He smiles at Bobby, tired. It's odd seeing him so close. Sam can see every freckle, the subtle creases of his eyes. He's very pretty.

Bobby turns to him, his face and his eyes to Sam's eyes, "You're very drunk, aren't you?" he asks, smiling just through his eyes, not so opened as he feels tired and a little bit sleepy as well. He wants to enjoy it, to be here with Sam, but he bets Sam is already too much away now.

"Mhmm," Sam agrees pleasantly. "You're cute." He curls on his side, his forehead brushing against Bobby's bicep, and he sighs contentedly. Bobby is warm and soft and Sam likes it a lot. 

"I like you," he says, and he knows he's really drunk but he doesn't care all that much right now.

"If you only weren't drunk," Bobby chuckles, "I'd kiss you, you know?" his sleepiness makes him feel a little less shy about that and he also bets he can deny everything to Sam the day after, since Sam was the one drunk and reliable, "If only."

Sam grins, humming. "'M not drunk," he giggles. "So you can kiss me if you want." He reaches tentatively for Bobby's hand, looking up at the boy shyly as he touches his fingers. "I've never dated," he blurts out honestly. "Not even a girl."

"You are," Bobby nods, "And I am not," he takes Sam's hand into his, "and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable after." He wants to kiss Sam when he'd be aware and awake.

Sam sighs, pouting up at Bobby. "Okay," he relents, disappointed. He smiles when Bobby takes his hand, feeling himself blush, his heart speeding up a bit. It's new, feeling this way, and he hides his face in embarrassment. "'M so silly," he moans into the pillow, blushing madly.

Bobby reaches out and kisses Sam's cheek and pulls away right after, not wanting to go any further while Sam is under influence, "You're cute, just," he says, pulling a few locks behind one of Sam’s ear.

Sam blushes, squirming a bit under Bobby's touches. "Bobby," he pouts, wanting a proper kiss. "Promise you'll kiss me when I'm sober?" Sam looks up, expectant. "Don't be all...assholey again. I don't like it."

Bobby blinks, "When you stop calling all rich people jerks, bloodthirsty," he jokes but there is some seriousness on that. He wants to be rich and if it depends on him, he will and Sam will have to deal with it if they still keep seeing each other somehow.

Sam sniffs. "Capitalist," he retorts haughtily. "But you're not rich," Sam points out, nuzzling against Bobby's neck. "I like you."

"I will be," Bob says, pulling his head against Sam’s neck, "I'll be rich, and you will like me, then?" He wants to sleep before he starts wanting to do what he can’t.

Sam hums. "I guess I'll still like you. Just don't be such a jerk." He nuzzles up against Bobby, yawning. "Try being nice for a change."

"No promises," Bobby says.


	3. Chapter 3

_15 years later_

Sam walks through the gallery, sipping from a tiny water bottle as he looks at the art, mostly disinterested. He doesn't know why he always goes to these things- an old habit from his critic days, he supposes- but there was surprisingly not much else to do in New York. It was a stupid idea, this whole trip, but he's a month sober and he needed to get away from Ben and Seattle for a while. And, though he wouldn't admit it, he was looking for a familiar face, from a lifetime ago. He'd heard that Bobby Axelrod was a billionaire now, and he'd had a quiet urge to see if it was true. He'd never believed the boy when he said he was going to be rich. Apparently, he had been wrong.

"Sam?" He hears a man call from behind him and turns around.

That day Bobby wasn't with Lara, incredibly. He was actually there for no reason, he just wanted to blend in and breath for a second without thinking much of it. Sometimes his job exhausted him and he just wanted to turn his mind blank for whatever important subjects he could manage to forget. He was breathing deeply and walking past some paintings when he saw someone he thought he knew. He came to the side and saw the familiar face.

"Sam?" he asked, his hands in his pockets.

Sam turns fully, seeing none other than Bobby there in front of him. He's grown, of course- no longer lanky and awkward, he's filled out into a lean, tall man, and his face is lined with stress, his hair just beginning to recede. Still, he looks better than Sam. His clothes are expensive and his hair is perfect.

"Bobby," Sam says belatedly, realizing he hadn't responded. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. You look-" Sam coughs, breaking away to take a drink. "You look good," he finishes lamely.

Bobby would say the same if only Sam had treated himself better. He seemed too thin, especially on his neck, his hair messy, a bit of purple bags under his eyes and a very low-effort outfit. He blinked, still surprised, "I thought you had married," he burst out, seeing that Sam seems too tired for someone who was taken care of.

Sam shrugs. "I was," he says hollowly. "But then I had an accident. And that was it." Sam looks away, not really liking to talk about it. "It's been...about a year." He looks back at Bobby, feeling tired. He's thinking about their time together in college, the way they fooled around, when Sam had realized he was gay. He'd never forgotten that, but he'd gave in to the pressure when he started dating Memphis, and then she'd made everything else happen.

"I heard you and Lara got together again," Sam comments, wanting to change the subject. "Had a few kids, yeah?"

Bobby wasn't sure if the woman had died or if they had divorced so he stayed still, just listening and sometimes nodding very subtly so to just demonstrate understanding. He didn't know how to feel about Sam and the whole situation. They have gone out a couple of times in college and he really liked Sam although they disagreed in a lot of stuff. They stopped seeing each other in that way probably for very stupid reasons that he might have thought were important at the time. Sam also came back to walk with those kids Bobby didn't like so they didn't talk or make out anymore after then.

"Yeah," Bobby nods, still looking at Sam, he looked so damn tired and sad, "We did the best we could to realize our dreams."

Sam smiles, feeling a bit melancholy. "I never had kids," he says softly. It was something he'd never really thought about or wanted, but in his early fifties now he regrets it sometimes. He looks around the gallery with a frown.

"Are you free? We could go get lunch someplace," Sam says. "It's stuffy here."

Sam still had a beautiful smile which made him look a lot younger, but he definitely didn't seem to be the same as before. Bobby breathed in deeply. 

"I need to go back to the capital soon," he said, serious, almost apathic. He wanted to sit with Sam and talk more, eat something together. But he didn't want Lara to know about it, none to know and talk to her about it. They had a history in college, "I even think I'd go."

Sam frowns, pulling away from Bobby. "Busy, huh?" He looks up at Bobby, disappointed. "Or are you just too busy for me?" Because they hadn't parted on the best note, but Sam thought that would've been forgotten. He itches for a drink and regrets coming to New York at all. What a stupid idea this had all been. He eyes Bobby distrustfully.

"You were my first," he reminds Bobby lowly. It's overstepping, he's sure, but it'd been on his mind lately.

"I have a reputation, Sam," Bobby informs him, staring down at his shoes, his hands as deep as possible inside Bob's pants' pockets, "I need to feed into this reputation since I am a billionaire and I work with something, very, very risky," he looks up at Sam and swallows at the mention of that, "That's not the place," because he knows everybody is always hearing everything he says, "Where are you staying?" Bobby says, looking at the painting instead of Sam. Can't he understand that Bobby have a life that he doesn't want to destroy?

Sam scowls. "Reputation, huh?" He scoffs. "That's more important than someone you fucked, isn't it? Even if he fell in love with you?" He softens at Bobby's question, but the anger still pulses in his breast. "Wellington," he replies shortly. "Room 408." He looks at the painting too, no longer ashamed by the nudity as he would have been last he'd seen Bobby. Sam is a different person than he was then, and he wonders how much Bobby has realized is different.

Bobby lets out a quiet "Fuck," then shaking his head, he goes very close to Sam, maybe even too close, "Sam, shut up," he said, looking at Sam’s face but still avoiding looking too much in those dark eyes, "Stop going crazy, alright?" He sighs, nodding at the information. He steps away, "We'll talk, but not like this." He took a paper w a phone number from his pocket and gave it to Sam, "I will be there in half an hour."

Sam tenses as Bobby steps into his space. He looks Bobby in the eyes defiantly, but the younger man won't meet his gaze and he scoffs. He takes the paper Bobby gives him with a stiff nod. "Alright," he says. "I'll be there."

In half an hour, Bobby is at Sam's hotel after a call to Hall to make sure whatever got out of that gallery would stay as far as possible from the news or at least from concrete facts. He knocked on the door after he had been announced downstairs. He licks his lips. He has no idea what will happen now, but he sure knows that it must go a lot rougher than it used to go when they were in college, whatever would happen between them. And he sure is trying to pretend that nothing like making out or sex will happen. Not at all, he is a married man with a reputation to keep up. He loves Lara and he hadn't cheated on her, ever.

Sam wakes from his dozing as he hears a knock on the door. He gets up, stretching painfully, and answers the door. "Bobby," he says, not surprised but having half-expected the man not to come. "Come in." He steps aside to let Bobby in, rubbing his eyes tiredly. They have a lot to talk about, he realizes glumly.

Bobby walks in and lets the door fall behind himself before saying anything, two fingers around the tip of his nose "What the fuck, Sam?" He says loud and clear, now looking at Sam's face and not turning his eyes away, he was frustrated and angry at Sam for what he’d said at the gallery. "It's personal what we had!" he continues, "I can't discuss that in public. People, reporters, cops...they are always watching." He stops, breathing hard as anxiety builds up, his heart racing, "I am not in that boy's shoes anymore, Sam - although yes, I liked you so much back then, for you I thought I could be...something else, but now..."

Sam flinches when Bobby yells, but quickly straightens, glaring at the other man. "I thought we'd never see each other again. I had to say something, didn't I?" Sam goes to the minifridge, taking out a soda as Bobby talks.

"Something else?" Sam asks, chuckling. "What did you expect me to be? Rich, like you? You know I was, for a while, but then the drinking ruined me. I wrapped my car around a tree and my wife lost a leg." Sam takes a drink from his soda, scowling. "You ever fuck up that bad, Bobby?"

Bobby shakes his head, Sam hadn't understood him when he talked about "being something else." He meant for himself to feel, act in a different way about himself to even, maybe, be more open about his attraction to men and to the fact that he liked them and he also liked both masculine as well as more feminine men as much as it would be an eventual thing as it was with Sam back then. His lips part though when he hears about the news and what happened to Sam and his wife. He looks up at Sam, startled.

"What happened to you?" he asks, not sure what to feel about Sam since he had fucked up indeed very badly. What happened to that sweet young man he used to know?

Sam gives Bobby a sideways look, taking another drink from his soda. "I told you, I was drinking," he says. "I spent maybe ten years drunk. First it was the after parties...then every day was an after party." Sam shrugs, not wanting to talk about it. "I'm one month sober. I shouldn't be here right now, because my sponsor is back home in Seattle, and since I laid eyes on you at that gallery I've wanted nothing but to get drunk and fuck you." He scoffs, draining the can and dropping in in the little garbage can. He glances at Bobby, curious of the man's reaction but also not really wanting to know. He knows he's changed; he wonders if Bobby has.

"Have you always drank like that?" Bobby asks, trying to understand what the hell went wrong for Sam to go so down that road, hurting himself and others with him like that. Could he have ever done something for that? Making Sam to feel the necessity to drink like that?

"What...Why did you do this to yourself? Before, what happened?" Then his lips parted again as Sam admits he still may feel something alike attraction towards him. He swallows, "I married," he says but without much of a conviction in his voice tone. Then he walks to Sam, "I had found a friend, someone you could be with," he says as he remembers the graduation when he and Sam stopped talking.

Sam sighs, leaning against the wall. He's exhausted, and he knows they need to have this conversation, but he really doesn't want to. "Dad gave me the keys to the liquor cabinet when I was eleven. But I wasn't drinking like..._that_, until after college." He closes his eyes, sighing again. "I don't really know why. I just wanted to feel good, y’know? Every Loudermilk before me was an drunk. Thought I'd be different. I was wrong."

Sam opens an eye, looking at Bobby. "She divorced me," he says hollowly. "I don't know if she ever loved me. And none of my college friends stayed, man." Sam shakes his head. "I live in Seattle now, anyway."

Bobby doesn't really know what happens but when Sam starts looking, feeling sad, too melancholic he can’t help feeling angry and melting a little inside, his anger, his temper.

He comes closer and pulls Sam by the neck before kissing him, pushing with his body weight Sam against the wall. "Can you just stop being so stupid?" he whispers between kisses. He knows addiction isn’t that easy but what the fuck happened to his life. He needs to get his shit together.

Sam tenses when Bobby steps into his space, but when he leans in to kiss him he relaxes, letting his lips drag against Bobby's. This is what he was looking for. He kisses back chastely, his hands settling on Bobby's hips. "I'm so lonely," he sighs, dropping his head onto Bobby's shoulder. "I don't know what to do with myself anymore."

"You need to get better," Bobby says, looking at Sam over his shoulder, worried but still frustrated by the whole situation Sam and him were in, "Get your life together," he continues, nibbling Sam’s neck, "Find a purpose," he rubs his nose onto Sam’s nape, "Fuck, Sam, you need to wake up if you would ever fuck me," he jokes

Sam sighs, sinking into Bobby's touch. "I'm trying," he rasps. "Rehab was...really hard." Sam shivers as Bobby's mouth moves along his neck, his nose against his nape, and he feels his pants growing tight. "Bobby," he warns softly, moaning a little. "I- I was thinking of volunteering to run a group," he says breathlessly. "Once I get my five-year chip." He shakes his head. "That's all the purpose I have left in me."

"Don't be like that," Bobby says, sneaking and sliding his hand up Sam’s shirt, "You are better than this, you've always been," he tugs Sam away from his shoulder without pushing him away, "You know that I didn’t date another guy since you, right?" And Bobby still feels something or more towards Sam, affection and attraction, maybe more?

Sam gasps softly as Bobby's skin meets his own. He lets himself be guided back, looking into Bobby's eyes as he speaks. "I...I didn't either," he admits softly. "You were my first...and only." He sighs, kissing Bobby's jaw. "When I was with girls...I thought of you..." Sam's hands drop down to Bobby's waist, pulling the younger man's hips flush against his own, letting him feel his arousal. "Even if I thought I hated you...I wanted to be with you," Sam husks, flushing.

"Why would hate me?" He's touched by that confession but also sad for what Sam did to his life, to himself as he chose to pretend he wasn't gay and stopped looking for real happiness, going for the easier way to him. Bobby chose the easier way but he had a choice, he could love a woman and he did but maybe not enough since he's here with Sam. He rubs one of Sam's nipple with the pad of his thumb, holding his breath at feeling Sam's arousal and sighing in follow, "I never really hated you..." Bobby says as he leans, tipping Sam by the chin and kissing him, harder this time.

"Because you left me," Sam murmurs, slipping his fingers under Bobby's waistband. "Just like everyone else." He winces as Bobby teases his nipple, the bud feeling oversensitive. He rubs against Bobby's jeans slowly, his breath coming heavier. "I never hated you either," he says breathlessly. "I just wanted to." He pulls away from Bobby's jaw, pressing their lips together again, teasing Bobby with his tongue.

"You left me, too, Sam," Bobby answers, he groans in his throat with excitement by the whole rubbing and draws his hand down, the one on the chin, to Sam's ass, squeezing and kneading it between his long fingers. He kisses Sam back and bites his lower lip in revenge for the teases, sneaking a thumb inside Sam's pants, "You don't need to."

Sam grunts, not wanting to think about that. He knows he's an asshole, anyway. He sighs as Bobby plays with his ass and nips his lip. "I don't," he says against Bobby's mouth. "We should- take this to the bed." He won't admit it, but his knees are starting to ache, crowded against the wall like this. "Unless you wanna..." Sam trails off, kissing Bobby deeply. Fuck it, he thinks. He'll take it anywhere, as long as it's Bobby. "Fuck me," he moans. "Please."

Bobby kisses Sam back, taking Sam's shirt off to his elbows, "Where is the bed?" Bobby asks, pushing Sam away from the wall with his body while Bobby sneak a hand forcefully down Sam's pants with his free hand, wrapping the semi-soft cock with his sweat hand, "I will, you have lube, beauty?"

"Behind you," Sam murmurs, following Bobby instinctively as he pulls away. He moans as Bobby touches him, pressing into the touch eagerly. "Y-yeah," Sam points to his suitcase, "in the little pouch on the front." He guides Bobby to the bed eagerly, moving so the younger man can push him onto the mattress. "I've needed this," he moans softly. "Bobby."

As Sam moves in front of him as Bobby turns, Bobby pushes his friend on the bed and sits onto his crotch, swinging his hips as he does, smiling openly at Sam's face expressions, "What took you so much to ask?" he asks, opening his jeans and unzipping them, his showing from the part opened. He kept rubbing and thrusting over Sam before bending out to Sam's neck and biting him harder than he had ever bitten before but not so hard to be painful, or too painful.

Sam lets Bobby push him back with a smirk, watching as Bobby straddles him and opens his pants. Sam's hard himself, and he grinds upwards gently, rubbing his clothed cock on Bobby's thigh. He chuckles as Bobby leans in, but moans as Bobby's teeth sink into his neck. It hurts, but he's not breaking skin, and then he sucks at the spot and Sam relaxes, sighing. His hands slide down Bobby's back, pushing his jeans down and squeezing his ass. "I was too busy being angry," Sam admits quietly. "This is better."

Bobby takes off his pants, pulling down Sam’s too, in follow. He doesn’t have the time to fumble around. He wants to fuck with Sam right the fucking there. He leans into Sam and mouths the erection inside the briefs, wetting and sucking it. "I missed this," Bobby says, "You know...I may have tried toys when you weren’t there." He grinds against the mattress, "Up my ass."

Sam wiggles his hips to let Bobby pull off his jeans, gasping sharply when Bobby mouths his cock through his briefs. He jerks forward involuntarily, looking down at Bobby with hooded eyes as he talks. "Really?" Sam chuckles, a bit breathless. "I wouldn't have taken you for the type." Because Bobby had done all the fucking between them, Sam liked to be receiving with men.

"Yeah," Bobby answers, licking underlined length long over the briefs, "I don't like to show, but sometimes I like to be the one...taking it," he informs Sam as he pulls off the briefs by two fingers working as hooks, but he knows Sam likes to take or receive than to pinching.

Sam shudders, moaning as Bobby licks his length. It feels unreal, being touched like this after so long without. There were times when he toured with the bands, when he was drunk and high out of his mind, that he'd nearly let other men into him again like this, but he'd had just enough self-preservation not to go through with it. Now he's glad of it. He'd saved himself the possibility of sexual disease and kept himself somewhat intact.

Sam blinks out of his thoughts when Bobby starts to take his briefs off. He smiles, kissing Bobby's jaw and licking up behind his ear. "You know how I like it," he murmurs.


End file.
